


A heart of gold

by lonelyviolin (singingdevil)



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Lance Needs a Hug, Langst, Sickfic, and keith sucks at this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-08
Updated: 2017-05-08
Packaged: 2018-10-29 13:12:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10854711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/singingdevil/pseuds/lonelyviolin
Summary: "The pain in his shoulder is worse, practically unbearable by now, but he grits his teeth and takes Pidge’s temperature again."Three paladins are down with some space bug, Lance is a self-sacrificing idiot who overworks himself trying to take care of others and neglects his own wellbeing, and Keith handles the aftermath. At least he tries.





	A heart of gold

**Author's Note:**

  * For [taylor_tut](https://archiveofourown.org/users/taylor_tut/gifts).



> My first Voltron fic! Please enjoy some insecure and self-sacrificing Lance!

Lance’s shoulder is burning. It's burning because he got shot with some weird space gun on the last planet and he hasn't tended to it, but he really doesn't have time for it right now. He has better things to do than look at some stupid graze that was his own fault, because Shiro, Pidge and Hunk are all down with some sort of a virus or an infection or something and for all his battle skills Keith is  _ useless _ in taking care of people.  

It shouldn't matter - Lance is, after all, quite used to taking care of several people at the same time on his own. He remembers that one time visiting home and finding his whole family down with the flu because vaccines cost money they don't have, but the Garrison gives them out to keep outbreaks from happening. What he's not used to, however, is looking after people when he himself is feeling like crap.

For the third morning in a row he brushes off the pain after approximately two hours of sleep and makes his way to the sick bay. The healing pods are useless (just like Keith right now, Lance thinks to himself) against infections and such, whatever this even might be, he doesn't even know. He can only treat the symptoms. It’s pathetic, really, but he’s no doctor and neither is anyone else on the ship. Allura and Coran are not familiar enough with the human anatomy or immune system to do anything useful besides cleaning up basins. Lance doesn't really even trust them with anything else, because for all their good intentions they're still convinced that  _ warm is good _ and he’s very much done explaining that a 103° fever is  _ not good _ for humans. 

His head feels heavy and his neck aches, and there's a steady, pulsating pain behind his eyes. He’s tired, that's it, but complaining is useless. Sleep is for the weak, and right now Lance can't afford it. Right now he cannot afford being weak, or even feeling weak for that matter, because they have enough people down. 

Pidge is positively delirious. Her fever has been consistent for the past few days, rarely spiking and never breaking, and she keeps calling her brother's name in her fever dreams. Lance tries his best to hold her flailing, searching hands and reassure her during the worst times, but there's only so much he can do. 

Shiro and Hunk are both coherent and able to communicate - Lance suspects that Pidge’s small build may have something to do with it - but all in all they're not in much better shape. The fever is lower, but being conscious brings on other problems.

Such as the constant nausea and, as a result, vomiting. What follows is dehydration, and honestly, Lance isn't sure he’ll be able to keep them alive long enough for this to pass. He’s also quite certain that Hunk has lost, like, half of his weight in the past three days, but then again so has everyone else, too, because they don't have Hunk cooking for them. 

By day four, Lance has slept maybe five hours in the past three nights combined, but Pidge’s fever is finally going down. She wakes up, once, dry heaves for about ten minutes because there's nothing in her to throw up, and falls back to the edge of sleep and unconsciousness. There's minor improvement in everyone's condition, which Lance is very, very grateful for, because he himself is starting to feel a little under the weather.

The pain in his shoulder is worse, practically unbearable by now, but he grits his teeth and takes Pidge’s temperature again.

The fact that something might be actually  _ wrong _ hits him on the way back to his room. Suddenly there's a twist in his vision and his knees nearly buckle under him, and it's so much worse than what his gradually growing sleep deprived headache has been giving him since maybe two days ago. Instead of fading like he's used to this shit doing, his vision contorts further and then his legs feel like boiled spaghetti and he goes down, sliding along the wall to his right.

The straight, solid lines of the ship around him, the ones he's so used to seeing, are now dancing like Lady Gaga in Applause (he should know) right in front of him where they should be still and linear. Rationally, of course, he knows that's not the case, but suddenly nothing seems to stay in place - he’s not really even sure if he himself is still. His blood in rushing his ears in a deafening volume and the ache behind his eyes makes itself very known as he lets his head hang between his knees and waits for the dizzy spell to pass. The dizziness and the headache are feeding his growing nausea, too.

That's where Keith finds him, some time later. Lance’s breathing is labored and shaky, and there's a clear but unsuccessful attempt to regulate it. His back is heaving to the rhythm of his breaths, and Keith hurries to him in a second. Normally, he’d question if Lance was faking it and maybe looking to make Keith look dumb, but in the light of recent and current events and the situation at hand, he doesn’t think Lance would pull off something like that.

“Lance? Lance, what’s wrong? Hey,” he asks, tentatively grabbing Lance’s shoulder and giving it a light shake. Or, he tries, sure, but the second his hand makes contact with Lance, the other boy reels back as if he’d just been shot, with a pained yelp to boot. He falls on his side, his hand coming to grab his shoulder and the other quickly going for his head, and Keith doesn’t think he’s ever heard anything as horrible as the thin, airy whimper that leaves Lance’s lips. He looks pale, very pale as he pulls his knees closer to his chest and curls up, and there’s a certain ashy hue to his skin that Keith doesn’t like one bit.

Lance’s body jerks exactly once on the floor and then he goes still, though he’s still trembling. He’s hurting, he’s hurting so bad and there’s a part of him that wants to scream in agony because that’s what he’s in right now, not pain but pure, raw  _ agony _ and his shoulder is feeling more and more like it’s being ripped off. His head is going to explode, he thinks, he’s not really sure. He’s not really sure of anything anymore, except for the searing pain surging through him. There are black spots dancing in his vision, distorting and blurring and doing what they want and not what he wants them to do.

In the middle of not knowing, though, one thing makes itself very known. Whatever little he’s managed to put in his mouth in the past few days wants  _ out _ and Lance, still on his side on the floor, gags and coughs up the measly contents of his stomach.

With a grimace on his face, Keith steps around the mess and carefully pulls Lance up to a half-sitting position to lean on him. Lance’s head settles lifelessly to the crook of Keith's neck. He’s still gripping his shoulder, but he’s also starting to shiver against Keith. From the awkward angle Keith can see that his eyes are half-lidded and hazy, and there’s a definite warmth of a fever to his skin against Keith’s neck. 

Lance lets out a small, pathetic whimper and curls up, pressing further into Keith for warmth, but Keith doesn’t care right now - the most obvious problem right here and now is Lance’s shoulder which he’s still protecting, and he needs to do something about that. Keith sighs.

“Lance, I’m gonna need to get you to the sick bay. Can you help at all?” he asks, because he’s going to have a hard time getting Lance even off the floor if the boy is too out of it to cooperate. To his relief, tough, Lance’s arm starts fumbling for the wall for support. He mumbles something, too - incoherent and nearly inaudible, and Keith puts it down as an affirmation. 

Getting to the sick bay is a pain, even though Keith can tell Lance is really trying. Allura and Coran both rush to help them the second they see Lance clinging to Keith and barely conscious. Shiro wakes up to the commotion and tries to get up to help, but somehow Lance manages to get his head up from Keith’s shoulder for long enough to say, “You’re sick, back to bed” as if he wasn’t about to pass out himself. Shiro complies, however - Lance, in all his unwellness and misery right now, somehow still manages to take command of the sick bay. It’s not like Shiro is in good condition, either.

The removal of Lance’s jacket and shirt reveals a minor scratch on his shoulder. A minor scratch that has now turned angry red, though, and the skin around it is swollen and feels hot to the touch. Keith tries his best to explain this thing called “infection” to Allura and Coran, who both seem uncomfortably intrigued by the human body and its immune response. Keith honestly wishes Lance would be unconscious right now, instead of being in pain. The more they prod and poke at his shoulder, the more distressed Lance’s airy whimpers sound and it makes something twist in Keith’s chest.

He gets his wish when they move on to clean the wound; Lance lets out a horrible shriek and then his eyes roll back and he goes slack. Keith’s heart jumps to his throat and he’s positive it misses a few beats, but Lance is still breathing when he checks. He takes a shuddering breath and goes to check on the others as Coran finishes with Lance’s shoulder and covers the wound gently. 

“What happened?” Shiro asks Keith when the latter takes a seat next to him after things have calmed down. The scar on his face sticks out against his too-pale skin and his eyes are sunken, but he looks a lot better than two or three days ago.

“I mean, I guess he just forgot to take care of himself,” Keith sighs. “Because, you know, he was the only one who knew how to, uh, take care of other people, and, that stuff…” He trails off as he averts his eyes, more than a little ashamed for letting this happen in the first place. He’s also mad at Lance - for not letting Keith help, for getting injured in the first place, for taking bad care about himself and for being so goddamn self-sacrificial.

Later, when everyone else is asleep except for Keith, Lance wakes up to find the Red paladin next to him. The pain in his shoulder is significantly less intense than he remembers it being before he passed out, and although he’s still exhausted and in pain, he feels considerably better than he has in the past few days. 

“-ith?” Lance manages to mutter through a scratchy throat and chapped lips. He watches as Keith starts and almost falls off the chair he’s sitting on and then scrambles to stand up. 

“Lance!” Keith whisper-yells, relief taking over his features. It melts quickly, though, and is replaced by anger. “Don’t ever do that again,” he hisses. “What were you thinking?” 

_ He’s upset _ , Lance thinks. Aloud he whispers, “Sorry,” and closes his eyes. 

“Why’d you do that?” Keith then asks, tone softer than before.  _ Concerned? _ Lance thinks for a second. But then,  _ no, no, that’s Keith. _

“Because Allura and Coran don’t know how humans work and, well, neither do you, really,” Lance answers, eyes still closed. “Someone had to make sure.” It’s silent for a moment.  Then, Keith opens his mouth again.

“You’re not making any sense.” Disbelief. “A toddler can follow instructions, Lance. Do you not trust me?”

This time, Lance goes silent. He doesn’t like the way Keith has posed the question, nor does he like the fact that he can’t just walk away from the situation. His head is too hazy to offer him any good excuses, but he doesn’t exactly feel like sharing his feelings with Keith of all people. 

“It’s not that,” he finally sighs, turning his head away. “I just wanted to be useful.” It’s a quiet mumble and Lance hopes Keith didn’t hear it, really.

Of course he did.

“ _ That’s _ it?” Now he sounds astonished. Lance doesn’t want to look at Keith. He wants this moment to go away and forget that it ever happened. He grits his teeth.

“What?” he asks, sharpening his tone. “It’s nice to feel useful  _ sometimes _ .” Lance tries to blink away the tears that are starting to gather at the corners of his eyes. Here it is, out in the open - he’s useless everywhere else and he knows everyone is aware of this. They keep him around for God knows what reason. Maybe it’s pity, because honestly? He is kind of pitiful. Pathetic in all his inability to be useful. Taking care of others is the one thing he’s actually decent at. 

“Y-you--” Keith stutters. “What the hell’s that supposed to mean?” He’s back to whisper-yelling instead of just whispering. “You actually think that-- you know what, never mind.” he then sighs. “I’m going to say this exactly once and we will never have this discussion again.” There’s no question for affirmation - it’s a statement, and a very final one at that, so Lance takes a deep breath and tries to listen.

“You’re, like, okay. You might not be the best in hand-to-hand combat. Don’t interrupt me,” Keith tells as Lance inhales like he’s about to say something sarcastic like  _ jeez, thanks _ . “But have you ever watched any of us trying to shoot long-distance? That’s your thing. Or you can make people feel comfortable around you. I can’t do that. Proving your ‘usefulness’ or whatever doesn’t require not taking care of yourself!” Keith’s words are speeding up, now.

“And maybe I don’t get how you feel about this, but you’ll be just as useful telling people what to do. I don’t know what to do with sick people and neither do Allura and Coran, but telling us how to help is beneficial to everyone.” Lance can hear Keith’s fingers fidgeting. He’s still not looking, can’t bring himself to do it, but the pit of anxiety in his chest doesn’t feel as constricting as it did when Keith started questioning him.

“But yeah, now you’re no use to anyone since you’re down, too. How about next time you tell us what to do,” Keith grumbles. Then he falls silent.

Lance doesn’t know how long they stay quiet, but his eyelids are starting to feel heavy. His head is starting to pulsate again, and the longer he stays awake, the more his shoulder burns. Still, he feels lighter than he has in days.

“Thanks,” he breathes, startling Keith again. Keith’s voice sounds flustered when he answers.

“Just get better.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hint: I love feedback. Please.


End file.
